Love Demands Sacrifice
by LadyLizard3492
Summary: A Becoming Jane fic. A year has passed since their failed elopement and Jane and Tom find themselves together in London- Jane with Henry and Eliza, and Tom with his fiance. They soon discover that love and passion do not relinquish their grasps easily.
1. A Year Is Not Enough

_Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Jane Austen, Tom Lefroy, Henry Austen etc... I do not pretend to have any claim on them whatsoever. _

_Author's Note: This story is based on Becoming Jane and minimal research into the real lives of the Austens and Tom Lefroy. If I stray too far from either the movie or reality, please chock it up to poetic license or (and this is more likely) sheer ignorance. The setting should be fairly straight forward and the situation explained within the story but if there's any confusion just ask questions and I'll clear things up. Also, as much as I was dying for a happy ending for Jane and Tom, and as much as I like to imagine one, this fic will almost certainly not end "happily ever after." It will, however, entertain and satisfy- to an extent- those who adore the couple as I do. Oh, and criticism is always welcome, but do not flame._

Chapter 1

"Jane! Jane, dear!"

_Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantelpiece with his eyes fixed on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than surprise. His complexion became-_

"Jane! Your brother and sister are here! _Do_ pull yourself away from your fiction!"

_His complexion became…_ "Ahhh…"

"Jane!"

Jane slammed her pen down. How was she ever supposed to earn her living if she never got a moment of peace to work? Sighing, she stood and swept out of her room and down the stairs.

"Jane!"

Jane raised her head to meet Henry's eyes, frustration dissipating.

"Don't tell me your work has replaced me in your heart. You don't really lack the time to see your favorite brother, do you?"

Laughing, Jane took the last couple steps at once and jumped into her brother's arms. "Of course it hasn't replaced you. Nothing could possibly do that."

Flashing Henry a teasing smile, Jane turned and embraced her sister-in-law. "Eliza, it's so good to see you!"

Eliza placed a kiss on both of Jane's cheeks, beaming. "It's good to see you too Jane. I've missed you so. Both you and Cassandra! Where is she now? She couldn't be avoiding us too!"

Jane smiled. "No, certainly not. Cassandra's a much more considerate person than I am. She would never do something so awful. No, Cassie's at market."

"And George?" Henry inquired over the shoulder of his mother who had him locked in a tight hug.

"He went with her. She's learning to sign, you know."

"Is she? After all this time?"

"Yes. She asked me to teach her one afternoon and I've been giving her lessons ever since."

Henry smiled. "Cassie's such a sweetheart."

"Yes, yes of course she is." Mrs. Austen clucked, evidently impatient to see everybody out of the foyer. "Come along now, into the drawing room."

Jane took a step back, away from the mother pushing them all forward. Quietly, she turned to head back upstairs.

"Jane!"

Jane sighed and turned around, her foot on the bottom stair.

"Don't sneak back upstairs. Henry and Eliza have just arrived."

"I know ma'am, but I was just in the middle of something and I don't want to take the chance that I'll go up in an hour and be hopelessly lost."

"Jane…"

"Oh let the authoress go Mother. She has to earn her keep somehow, doesn't she?" Henry grinned.

Mrs. Austen sighed. "Very well. Go on Jane. But do come down soon."

"Yes ma'am."

With a slight curtsy Jane left the party behind and returned to the solitude of her room. A few moments more and she was behind her desk staring intently at her words, still fresh and glistening brightly on the parchment in front of her.

Despite her best efforts the five minute interruption had managed to completely derail her train of thought and she found herself with her pen poised motionless over Mr. Darcy's most recent dialogue.

"Oh Mr. Darcy…" She sighed. "What will you say next?"

She raised her eyes from the paper and instead spent some time surveying the landscape, currently covered in the remnants of a fresh English rain.

She closed her eyes and imagined the same wet grass in Pemberley Grove. A moment later and she had conjured up Elizabeth Bennet standing in the middle of the property with a dark figure approaching.

Jane furrowed her brow and tapped her pen furiously against the desktop. While Elizabeth's features had fully formed, the figure's, Darcy's, had yet to materialize. Jane waited and eventually she saw a mouth, the lips party slightly, the corners turned in a half smile. A strong jaw followed and then a mop of thick, almost messy dark hair with two defined eyebrows to match. A nose came next, handsome, artistic, and prominent. All that remained were the eyes.

"Dark, brooding, piercing eyes…" Jane murmured.

But thought she could say it she couldn't see it. Instead a pair of bright blue eyes sprung to mind. _His _eyes.

Jane frowned and the movement of her pen stopped abruptly. A second later and the pen had slipped from her fingers entirely. Her eyelids fluttered open and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes.

A year. A year had passed and she still couldn't help but see Tom whenever she closed her eyes. Every evening spent trying to fall asleep inevitably brought the gentleman to her bedside and all she could see was Tom- Tom when they first met, Tom when they first danced, Tom when they first kissed, and most often, Tom when she left him standing in the middle of the road after leaving him.

His face still haunted her. Her love for him was still unabated, despite everything. He was engaged. He was still engaged to the girl he had left for Jane- an heiress, one that she'd heard was charming and pretty. How their engagement had withstood an attempt on Tom's part to elope was beyond Jane, but it was certain. He was practically married. Yet Jane still pined for him, still wished for him to be hers.

Jane blinked and checked the tears that were beginning to fall. It was foolish. She'd done what was best for herself as well as Tom. There'd been no other option. Still… when she thought what she'd do if she was put in the situation again…

A knock at the door roused Jane, startling her and causing her to upset an ink bottle.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, jumping up, grabbing the bottle, and saving her manuscript all at once. "Oh! Come in!"

The door opened and Cassandra peaked around the side. "Jane? What is- Oh you've spoilt your desk!"

"No." Jane muttered, searching for something. "No, this has happened before. It's alright."

"It's happened before? Well what have you been cleaning-?"

Jane silenced her sister with the sight of a soiled, formerly white handkerchief- the sought after object.

"Oh Jane, must you ruin all your handkerchiefs?"

Jane gave a wry, sad smile. "Rest easy on that point my dearest Cassie. It isn't mine."

"It isn't? Well then whose is it?"

Jane said nothing, but a response instantly became unnecessary. Cassie soon perceived through the ink, both fresh and dry, that it wasn't a lady's handkerchief being employed as a rag. She blushed slightly and lowered her gaze, sparing Jane the embarrassment of being caught with crimson cheeks and glassy eyes.

"There now!" Jane said sprightly after regaining her composure. "It's as good as new!"

Cassie looked up and smiled weakly, her visage marked by compassion.

The false joy evaporated from Jane's face at the sight of so much tenderness. "I can't get rid of it Cassie. Not yet."

"No. Of course not."

With the subject addressed but not pushed Jane was able to replace the handkerchief in a drawer and assume a sincerely cheerful countenance.

Jane sat down on the bed and patted the space beside her. "Now my dear Cassie, did you come to me for any particular reason? Or just to enjoy a moment of sisterly companionship so full of that love and good-nature that is lacking the world over?"

Cassandra sat down, smiling, and took Jane's hand. "I love you so Jane. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Nor do I." Jane agreed. "Now about your reasoning for interrupting a very productive sitting."

"Oh were you getting somewhere? I'm so sorry to have interrupted!"

Jane smiled. "I was only teasing Cassie. Actually, I'm quite stuck."

"Well how lucky. You see my errand was to bring you downstairs to join in the merriment of having a bit of our family back home. Mother sent me."

"Ah, naturally. She isn't able to let me steal away from a gathering even for a second. Well, just let me put my things away and I'll be with you all quite as quickly as I can."

Both sisters stood. Jane went to her desk and Cassandra went to stand by the door. She watched as Jane folded the manuscript, gently, and placed it out of harm's way. "What's the newest development Jane? Has Elizabeth fallen for Mr. Darcy yet?"

"No, indeed she has not. Darcy has, however, just proposed marriage to Miss Elizabeth."

"And?"

"She has very promptly turned him down. And if I may be so bold as to pass judgment on the actions of one such Elizabeth Bennet I would also add that it was not done very thoughtfully."

"Shocking! Miss Bennet not quite respectful?"

"Scandalous, isn't it?"

Jane gave the manuscript one last fond look and turned to her sister. "Well. We have visitors waiting."


	2. A Change of Scene

_Thanks for such kind reviews! I'm hoping to start updating regularly on Mondays and Fridays, but we'll see how long that lasts ;)_

Chapter Two: A Change of Scene

Jane took a deep breath of fresh air and leaned her head on Henry's shoulder. The formal welcome that her mother had organized in the drawing room was long since over and the party assembled- Jane, Cassandra, George, Henry, Eliza, and Mr. and Mrs. Austen- had each gone their separate ways. Jane had managed, with some difficulty, to slip out of supper preparations so that she might take a walk with her recently arrived brother and sister before the afternoon took a backseat to the darker, cooler evening hours.

The trio had already trekked through the nearby woods. Henry had done most of the talking, entertaining his sister with tales of London high-society. Eliza and Jane had been ready listeners, broaching topics of their own invention from time to time, but more than willing to let the dazzling male dominate the conversation which, at the moment, had actually lulled.

Jane sighed and looked up at the handsome face of her brother. "It's a shame that you and Eliza did not settle closer to home. It seems very quiet without you."

"My dear Jane!" Eliza exclaimed from the other side of her husband. "Henry and I were only with you for a matter of months before we were gone again. Our absence cannot possibly be felt that greatly."

"Oh but it is. How could it not be when the absence is that of a favorite brother and a glamorous sister?"

Henry smiled. "You're a shameless flatterer Jane." He gave her hand a squeeze. "We've missed you too though," Henry glanced at his wife and received a nod of confirmation and allowance. "So we've come with a plan to remedy that."

Jane raised her eyebrows and looked around her brother at Eliza who was smiling mischievously. "Have you? Please, do expand."

"Well," Henry began, a playful smirk on his lips. "My dear wife and I have been married for less than a year, as you know, and yet we are already fearfully tired of one another."

"Now Henry, I wouldn't say that." Eliza countered slyly.

"No. No, dear, don't try to make things sound any better than they are. We are speaking with our dearest Jane. She deserves to have the truth, horrid as it may be."

Jane gave Henry a playful shove. "Now don't tease me you two or I will refuse to listen to your wonderful plan at all and you will be left feeling that your genius has been sorely under-appreciated."

"Then I suppose I have no choice but to come to the point. Jane, Eliza and I want you, require you in fact, to return to London with us."

"For an indefinite stay." Eliza added.

"Of course." Henry assented. "You could spend the rest of your life with us if you wanted."

Jane gaped at her brother for a moment, then looked away, breaking into a wide grin. A stay in London with Henry and Eliza! It sounded wonderful.

But she didn't want to leave Cassandra…

Jane stopped smiling and looked up at Henry. "You know I can't leave Cassie- or George for that matter. If I'm complaining about the quiet now, imagine what it will be like when another member of the family leaves."

"Ah, but George and Cassie aren't complaining about the quiet. It suits them. And if they do begin to feel lonely it won't be for long. Frank and Mary and their wonderful children are coming for a visit soon, are they not? If those children are not enough to keep a house full of energy and excitement I swear I do not know what is."

"Don't swear." Jane chided absentmindedly, still considering the pros and cons of such an almost certainly lengthy visit. "What about my writing?"

Eliza spoke before Henry opened his mouth. "You'll have plenty of time to work. If you don't feel like attending all social occasions you are more than welcome to stay at home and immerse yourself in your writing. Henry and I also have a great deal of domestic help, you know, so time that you spend here doing chores could be spent in the city on your novels."

The group continued their walk in silence for some time as Jane weighed the offer in her mind. An active correspondence between her and Cassandra was certain, and if her brother and his wife and children did indeed pay the family a visit soon Jane's anxiety for Cassie's happiness, and sanity, would be assuaged.

The time to work on her fiction was also a tempting selling point. _First Impressions_ was well on its way, but there was so much more that needed to be done in it. Not to mention there were other ideas currently being mulled over that Jane was anxious to commit to paper. Yes, more free time could definitely be used to advantage.

And the inspiration that a city such as London could provide! There were all sorts of people in London. Jane was sure to overhear something worth adding to the already vast world of fiction or to meet somebody fascinating…

Jane's breath caught in her throat.

Meeting. The pure joy of a trip to London suddenly faded and turned to an equally strong promise of anguish.

"I can't go." Jane whispered.

Henry looked down, troubled by the tone of her voice and the expression on her face. "Jane, what's the matter?"

"Henry, it's only been a year." Jane stopped, swallowed, and started again. "I'm not sure I could- You said- You wrote and told me that you're often in society with- You often see-"

"Tom."

Jane nodded, feeling nothing but gratitude after being saved the effort of trying to say his name herself.

"We do see Tom often. At least we did. We have been told that within a month he will be joining the Irish Bar."

"He- He is returning to Limerick?"

"Yes. He leaves this week."

Jane swallowed again, mixed feelings of agony and relief constricting her throat. "And you're sure?"

"Yes." Eliza replied softly. "He told us himself just a fortnight ago."

"Oh." Jane uttered, barely audible.

"If that is your reasoning for not wanting to join Eliza and me then rest assured Jane that you will not be asked to handle the distress of meeting with Tom Lefroy. He will be gone by the time we return home."

Jane looked away from her brother in order to compose herself. Turning back to him, she smiled, weakly. "When do we leave?"

_One month later…_

The two sisters stood just outside of the carriage, locked in a tight embrace. Behind them, Henry had just helped his wife inside and was now waiting to do the same for Jane.

"Well." Cassandra began, pulling away and wiping tears from her face. She laughed. "Well, you mustn't keep Henry and Eliza waiting."

Jane laughed as well and dried her own eyes. "No, no that would be awful. You will write, won't you?"

"I will have to Jane! I know you will write every chance you get, except when working, of course, but other than that I know you will spend your time writing very long letters so I must keep up the correspondence. I wouldn't disappoint you."

"Oh Cassie you couldn't disappoint me if you tried. Let me know everything that happens here. Oh how I wish you could come with us!"

"I don't! I can't abide by London. I'm really much happier here."

"Then I shouldn't be leaving you."

"I _want_ you to go Jane. I will miss you terribly, but this will be good for you. A change of scene might be just what you need."

Jane smiled, crying again, and placed a kiss on her sister's cheek. "I'll miss you too. Every day."

Cassie gave a short chuckle. "I know you will. Now go on before Henry comes back to get you himself."

Jane gave her sister one last hug and a hurried good-bye before turning to her brother.

"I was starting to think you didn't want to come." Henry ribbed.

Jane smirked before giving Henry her arm. A second more, and she was in the carriage that would take her away from a dearly beloved home to the fantastic wilderness that was London.


	3. Stuck in London

Chapter 3

The grandfather clock standing in the corner of the stiff, formal dining room struck eight and the young man with bright blue eyes dug his fork into an egg moodily. He shoved a piece in his mouth, as if trying to maim himself with the utensil, and looked up at the silent, forbidding, elderly gentleman to his right. The man, his uncle, was perusing an open note lying at his side and chewing a dry piece of toast.

Tom, disgusted, turned away and back to his own breakfast, inwardly grumbling. He was sure his father and mother, brothers and sisters were probably sitting down to breakfast as well in their small home in Limerick. He felt equally sure, however, that unlike his breakfast table, theirs was by no means silent. No, he knew what it was like. It was noisy, full of life and laughter and love.

Tom knit his brow and jabbed at a piece of sausage. He should be there. He was supposed to be at home with his family. It had been agreed upon when he first arrived in London that after a four year term of study he would return to Limerick. The date had been settled for sometime, and, until a month ago, it had stood firm.

It had stood firm anyway, until his uncle, the "Honorable" Judge Langlois, decided at the last moment that he wasn't ready for practice. It was a rude awakening to be sure when he was told that his departure for Ireland would be delayed another six months, especially when he was told that the extension was needed to make up for the time he'd spent exiled in the country.

There was a bright side to a situation that was, when put mildly, enormously disappointing. It wasn't much, but some comfort was better than none at all. While the sight of his family in Limerick would do him good, the sight of one Mary Paul would certainly do the opposite.

His fiancé- his rich, handsome, charming fiancé was, he'd been told, anxious to see him. He, on the other hand, wished that she might have her heart stolen by another man so that _he_ might be released from a loveless engagement. He had no desire to meet her, so six more months away from her, even in the presence of his uncle, was something of a blessing.

The door creaked open and Tom's head snapped up. A manservant came in with a message on a tray and, after delivering his charge to the elder gentleman, bowed and exited. Tom watched as his uncle opened the seal. He quickly became bored and looked away through a window onto the already busy London streets.

He sat in this position, hypnotized, for a considerable time before an exclamation of pleasant surprise came from his uncle. Startled, he turned, curious to discover the cause.

"Well Tom," Langlois began, folding the message in half. "Do you know who sent this?"

"No sir, I don't know how I could."

"This message comes from a Mrs. Watson. She has just arrived in London with her young companion, Miss Mary Paul."

Tom dropped his fork. "I beg your pardon!"

"Apparently," his uncle continued mildly. "Mrs. Watson has been planning a trip to London for some time, but has continually had to put it off because she has lacked a suitable young woman to accompany her. She is a childless widow and did not wish to travel alone."

"Naturally." Tom assented, his voice cracking.

"Mrs. Watson has been a friend of the Pauls for some time. She was hoping that Miss Paul would consent to travel with her, but the young woman in question has been hesitant to leave her family. However, when she received the news that your return to Ireland had been delayed-"

"She agreed to come." Tom finished the thought.

Langlois nodded. "I believe you should call on the ladies."

Tom remained seated.

"Now."

Tom looked up, his shock beginning to subside and give way to anger. "Sir, they have just arrived." He began tersely. "They are still getting settled, I am sure. Besides, I have to observe a court session in half an hour."

He stood up, bowed, and made to exit the dining room when he was stopped by the sharp sound of his uncle's voice.

"Tom."

Reluctantly, but obediently, Tom turned around.

His uncle stood up and took a few slow steps towards him.

"The young lady wishes to become better acquainted with the gentleman she is to marry."

Tom gritted his teeth, patience wearing thin. "Yes, well the gentleman has no wish to become better acquainted with the lady."

"Nephew, do not test me."

"Oh, is that what I was doing?"

"Damn it Tom, I will not stand for your insolence! You will be marrying this woman! It's high time you learned to care!"

"Why should I, _sir_? It's not going to be a marriage; it will be a business arrangement! I have no say in the matter so what concern is it of mine who I enter into this bargain with?"

His uncle opened his mouth to yell, but thought better of it. When he did speak it was calmly, but dangerously. "Do not waste another moment of your time pining for that chit in the country. She is, and always will be, nothing to you."

Tom met the warning with a steely gaze, refusing to speak. Finally, he looked away to keep his uncle from seeing that his eyes were beginning to cloud. When he turned back his expression was stoic, any trace of tender emotion gone.

"Go pay your respects to the ladies, Nephew."

"I have to be in court soon, Uncle."

Before Langlois had a chance to respond Tom swept out of the dining room. He flew down the stairs, hardly stopping to get his hat and coat, and left, slamming the door behind him.

How dare he mention her… How dare he even allude to her! The tyrant had no feelings, knew not what love and passion were. He didn't understand, nor could he ever. Love was an empty word to him. Marriage needed it not. The only thing that mattered in a marriage, to him, was money and rank.

So that's just what he would do for his nephew! He would place him in a loveless marriage with that horrible heiress just to make sure he was set for life and "socially acceptable."

Tom gave an angry sigh. What did she mean coming to London anyway? Why couldn't she wait six months? It made no difference when they met, after all. They were condemned by their caretakers to the marriage whether they were in favor of it or not. Did she really think she might like him? Why else would she cross an ocean to meet an unknown man she was being forced to marry?

Tom stopped, lifted his hat, and ran a hand through his dark, unkempt hair. Replacing it, he looked up and became aware of his location, and his heavy breathing, for the first time. He'd been moving much faster than he would have thought possible and had covered a considerable amount of ground, putting some very favorable distance between himself and that despotic uncle of his. He now found himself standing at the corner of a main road, carriages passing by frequently, foot traffic surprisingly slow.

As of yet unwilling to head for the court, or to move at all, Tom remained stationary watching the movement of vehicles, horses, and people. Anything that could take his mind off of Mary Paul was welcome at the moment and he discovered that the bustle of gruff men, vexed women, and correspondingly meek children was actually quite interesting, having rarely taken the time to observe people before. Shopkeepers also caught his fancy and he surveyed their morning routines with a level of interest that surprised himself.

Perhaps a quarter of an hour after arriving at his place of observation, Tom shifted his gaze from a nervous bookseller who brought to mind a small, frightened rabbit, to a familiar carriage being driven towards him. The new object had his complete attention and as it came closer he identified it as the Austen carriage, even catching a glimpse of Henry's fair hair as it passed.

His recent feelings of amusement suddenly faded and he watched the retreating vehicle with a decided lump in his throat. The last time he'd spoken with Henry and Eliza, at some evening gathering or another, they had informed him that they would soon pay a visit to Steventon, from which he assumed they were returning. His first thought at the time was that they may as well have said they were going to visit Jane. They knew, or Tom believed they did, that Steventon itself meant very little to him. It was the thought of Jane being within its grounds that made him so wildly envious of the month long visit.

"Watch it!"

Tom felt himself being shoved to the side. Indignant, he clutched his throbbing shoulder and looked up just in time to see a burly fellow sneering at him before disappearing into a shop. Tom scowled and starting walking down the street, having been jarred from his state of abstraction.

"That's quite alright." Tom muttered bitterly. "The sidewalks are crowded after all. Running in to someone is perfectly understandable."

The bell tones of the nearby clock tower chimed, interrupting Tom's mumbling and drawing his attention to the fact that he was supposed in court at that very minute. Cursing quietly, he set off at a run, thoughts of the Austens temporarily suspended.


	4. Along Comes Mary

_Author's Note: Glad you guys are liking it! _

Chapter 4: Along Comes Mary

"You allowance will of course be restricted."

Tom pulled at his gloves, purposely avoiding his uncle's eyes. "Yes, Uncle."

"You will have a curfew. You will be expected at the house by midnight and not a moment later."

Tom gritted his teeth. "Yes, Uncle."

The pair turned a corner, walking much faster than most sensible people would consider proper and both looking irritated with the other.

"You may be an adult Tom, but unless you want to be forsaken in my will and evicted from my household you will obey me. You have tested my patience too many times. I have tried temporary punishment and it seemed to have little effect on your inexcusable conduct. I will not continue to tolerate your disrespect and insubordination, _especially_ now that you will be in the company of your fiancé. You cannot walk out in the middle of a conversation with her."

Langlois shot a look at his nephew from the corner of his eye, but Tom refused to appear any more or less annoyed by the pointed remark than by the rest of his uncle's comments.

The two gentlemen paused in front of a small, but very elegant London house. Langlois glanced at the address before nodding and leading his nephew up the steps.

"I want to make something absolutely clear."

Tom nodded slightly, conscious of his uncle looking at him, but unwilling to oblige him by returning the gesture.

"If I cannot have a nephew I can be proud to claim, I will have no nephew at all."

Langlois kept his eyes on his nephew's profile for a moment. Finally he rang the bell, and fell silent.

Next to him, Tom was fuming. Though not from the revocation of certain privileges as Langlois would have expected. Rather, he was experiencing a great deal of resentment at finding himself at his fiancé's door. Although the logical, sane portion of his being knew that he could not avoid Mary Paul forever, he had hoped to put the meeting off as long as possible; he had not counted on standing on her doorstep on her first evening in London.

The emotional side of him too was struggling with his current position. The day hadn't brought about a sudden change of feeling. He _still_ had no desire to meet his intended, had already, in his mind, repulsed her. Finding himself at her place of residence when just the previous day he had been basking in the misapprehension that a body of water separated the two irritated him to no end.

Quick steps were heard behind the door and in a second it was thrown open by a short, middle-aged lady with an air of indignation about her.

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

Judge Langlois removed his hat. Tom waited a moment, hoping to annoy his uncle, before following suit.

"Are Mrs. Watson and Miss Paul at home?"

"Who should I say is calling?"

"Judge Langlois and Mr. Thomas Lefroy."

"Very good. Follow me please, sirs."

The judge stepped inside, his nephew accompanying him. The party proceeded into the house with Tom taking careful but disdainful notice of his surroundings. The house was very handsomely furnished, extremely clean, and looked remarkably lived in, leading Tom to wonder at the ladies arriving just that morning.

"If you would wait a moment gentlemen."

Tom stopped abruptly, almost running into his uncle.

"Behave yourself." Langlois whispered sharply.

Tom set his teeth but said nothing as the housekeeper returned. Handing the woman his hat, he followed his uncle into the dining room, a knot of apprehension and anger in his stomach.

"Aw, Judge Langlois and Mr. Lefroy! How good to meet you!"

Tom's eyebrows shot up and he peered around his uncle so that he might better survey the woman in front of him. So this was Mrs. Watson. This, quite frankly intimidating woman in front of him, the largest he had ever seen, was the woman who had reservations about traveling on her own? She towered over both he and his uncle! Her figure was by no means unfeminine and her face was very friendly, a broad smile currently in place, but her height!

"Mrs. Watson."

Judge Langlois bowed. Tom, in his bewilderment, almost forgot to do the same.

"Now, allow me to present my young charge."

The statement was given with a highly significant look at Tom, the next thing to a blatant wink, increasing his astonishment greatly rather than lessening it. Indeed, his shock was so great that his first look at his fiancé left him with next to no impression, and he bowed and took his seat with his mind reeling.

Tom listened, still in a fog, while his uncle began small talk with this… overwhelming woman. It took some time, but he finally relaxed enough to turn much of his attention from the trivial conversation at hand and bestow it instead on taking a proper assessment of the young woman sitting across from him.

She was a credit to Limerick, Tom was sure. She was quite small and delicate looking, her chaperone's polar opposite, with auburn curls and sea green eyes. Her complexion would be considered by many to be the spoiler of an otherwise lovely face, but Tom, despite his settled bias against her, had to admire the fact that the young lady seemed to take no pains to conceal the spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

On further inspection Tom realized that she reminded him very much of a tiny porcelain doll that his younger sister Anne had coveted years ago when she was a girl. He couldn't help but imagine how excited his sister would be to meet his fiancé, that flawless little doll come to life.

Yes, Ireland could be proud of this heiress. Tom could've even thought her pretty had he not already formed a passion for porcelain skin, dark eyes, and thick chestnut tresses. As it was, Tom could only think the appearance of the girl in front of him passable.

Her behavior, however, was another matter entirely, one that made him very anxious. At the moment she was sitting absolutely still with her hands folded in her lap, saying nothing, but listening to everything, like a perfect lady. But Tom was sure that away from the watchful eyes of her chaperone and his uncle, or worse, on better acquaintance with the judge, her manner would be different. And with a model such as Mrs. Watson before her, one that had doubtless guided her for most of her life, he shuddered to think how she had been influenced.

"Oh and I didn't expect you Londoners to be so friendly!"

This newest exclamation caused Tom to shift his attention once again.

"We received the nicest invitation today from the nicest gentleman! He came and called himself in order to invite us to a ball later this week! I haven't the slightest idea how he knew we were here or who we are, but it was such a handsome gesture. Oh, yes the most delightful man! Now, what was his name… I'm sure I knew earlier. Some foreign name... What was it?"

"It was Mr. Russo ma'am." Mary supplied.

"Yes, that was it! The best of men I assure you, Mr. Langlois."

Langlois nodded. "I am acquainted with the gentleman myself."

"Well of course you are! How silly of me to think otherwise! Yes, it was the handsomest gesture; it's so disagreeable to think that we will not be able to attend. You see there's absolutely no way I can go out on Thursday! I simply will not have had enough time to get settled and I certainly cannot send Mary out on her own. That is out of the question. It is disappointing to have to decline our first invitation, but I suppose we will just have to, as they say, grin and bear it."

"Actually madam,"

Tom felt his spine straighten. He had a sinking feeling about the direction in which his uncle's thoughts were heading.

"My nephew is a great friend of the Russos and has, to my knowledge, an invitation to the same event. I'm sure he would be glad to escort Miss Paul."

"But sir!"

Tom blurted the words before he had given them a thought and now found himself in the painful situation of having all eyes upon and a need to save himself, and his fiancé, from embarrassment. He racked his brain, finally hitting upon a solution. "But sir, that wouldn't be entirely proper."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Watson laughed. "Mary is practically your wife and it is entirely proper for a young man to escort his wife to a ball."

Tom felt as if he had been punched in the stomach and sensed that he was staring.

"Of course." He assented weakly.

Was it possible that this woman acting as guardian to a young lady had so little sense of propriety? Tom was astounded.

Collecting himself he cleared his throat and turned to Mary. "I would be very flattered if you would allow me to accompany you Thursday evening, Miss Paul."

Mary smiled her acquiescence and Tom relaxed, but only slightly, having fully discharged a duty in an enormously uncomfortable situation- one that held the promise of dread and horror.

"Well then."

Langlois rose with these words and Tom eagerly mimicked the action.

"It was very nice to make your acquaintance madam." Langlois bowed to Mrs. Watson. "Miss Paul." He repeated the action.

"Ladies." Tom followed his uncle's example hurriedly, feeling more aggravated with each second he remained in their company.

Langlois led the way from the house. Tom stayed on his heels, overtaking him when they landed on the sidewalk outside. As soon as his feet hit the pavement, Tom began to rush forward, still tugging on his gloves and arranging his hat.

"Thomas!"

Tom ignored his uncle.

"Tom, this is not a horse; I demand that you stop."

Angrily, Tom turned. "Oh, did you want me sir?"

Langlois continued at his dignified pace until he caught up with his nephew. "What do I have to do to get you to start acting civilized?"

"Placing me in civilized society would certainly help! Uncle, did you see her?" Tom hissed.

"She's a very handsome young lady. You're lucky."

"Not her! The woman!"

"Tom, I demand that you show some respect."

"Why? She obviously doesn't know the meaning of the word! I'm never known anyone so unmindful of the rules of conduct! How can you even think me disgraceful when you have somebody like that to whom you can compare me? Can you honestly tell me that you will be able to claim Mrs. Watson as your acquaintance in polite society without blushing?"

"You are not engaged to Mrs. Watson."

"No, I'm only engaged to a young lady who has been under her influence for most of her life! Can you imagine what she must be like- a petted young heiress with Mrs. Watson for her guide?"

"Tom, you are making a scene!"

"By the way Uncle, I must thank you for putting me in the extraordinarily awkward position of having to take a young woman whom I do not know to a ball! You astonish me at times! You, the man who cares so much about propriety!"

"Tom, we are in public!"

Tom gave a short, derisive bark of a laugh. "There's nobody around!"

"That isn't the point tom! You have to learn to control yourself. You will soon be working and married! Behaving as a senseless, headstrong youth is no longer acceptable? Why can't you understand?"

"Uncle!"

Tom shouted the word, but then stopped. He took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and decided to take a new course of action. "Tomorrow I will send a message to Miss Paul to let her know I will pick her up at seven Thursday evening."

Tom said the words with obvious distaste, but they were still polite enough for his uncle.

"Very good."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, it is only six o'clock. I have six hours until my curfew. I had plans to have supper with some friends. Good evening to you, sir."

Tom bowed, turned, and walked away, not towards a friend's house, but to the nearest pub, in hopes that the evening would vanish with enough liquor.


	5. Meeting Mister Russo

_AN: So sorry the update's late! School work... grrr... But at least the year's winding down! I also apologize for the extreme mediocrity of this chapter. The next update (which **will** be on Friday) will be better, and definitely more exciting. So now that I've belittled my work to a sufficient extent, go ahead and read! ;)_

Chapter 5: Meeting Mr. Russo

"Austen! So you've finally returned!"

The booming voice from the hall reached the drawing room causing Jane to start and drop a stitch in her knitting. She placed a hand over heart and turned a wide-eyed stare to her cousin, who was smiling mischievously.

"Who is that?" Jane whispered.

Eliza shook her head. "You'll see."

Jane gaped at her cousin a second longer before making an earnest attempt to compose herself.

"And where is your lady wife?"

"Just through here Russo."

The door was flung open and Jane found herself dropping another stitch as her brother led a beaming, dark-bearded stranger into their midst.

"Eliza!"

Jane followed her sister-in-law with her eyes as she left her chair and swept over to take the proffered hand of the olive-complected gentleman. To her astonishment, the man then proceeded to kiss not just Eliza's hand, but both of her cheeks.

"You stayed away far too long! You must not do that to Emily and me again! You have no idea how we suffered."

"Oh Mr. Russo, I don't believe that for a moment. You probably didn't notice we were gone."

He laughed out loud, a full, sparkling laugh, before kissing Eliza again and finally catching sight of Jane.

"And who is this?"

Jane blushed under the scrutiny of this most unusual stranger, as well as on realizing that her surprise had kept her sitting. Embarrassed, she scrambled to her feet and curtsied awkwardly. "I'm so sorry. I… Well, I…"

Eliza laughed. "Shame on you Mr. Russo, you have overwhelmed my sister!"

"Your sister?"

"Well, Henry's sister actually."

"Yes," Henry took the cue and made his way over to his bewildered sister. "Mr. Russo, this is my youngest sister Miss Jane Austen. We brought her back with us from Steventon."

Mr. Russo stepped forward, took both of Jane's hands in his own, and kissed them. "Charming! Of course you will too!"

Jane opened her mouth, more confused than ever, and gave Mr. Russo a hesitant half-smile. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh! I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? Austen!" He barked, turning to face Henry. "Emily and I are hosting a ball this Thursday evening and we are counting on you to be there."

"Mr. Russo," Eliza began before her husband could answer. "We have just arrived! You know we cannot go out that soon."

"I know no such thing! You must come! You cannot bring such a charming creature into London and refuse to share her."

Jane blushed furiously and Henry chuckled.

"Just because we don't plan to show her off Thursday doesn't mean we plan to hoard her forever."

"All the same, I fail to see how it is fair for three lovely strangers to arrive in town on the same day and for them all, each and every one, to refuse my invitation."

"Three strangers?" Eliza inquired mildly.

"Yes, indeed. A Mrs. Watson and…. Ah, the name escapes me, but a Mrs. Watson and a young woman arrived all the way from Ireland today. Mrs. Watson's late husband was a friend of a friend, you know, I've never met her, but when I heard that she was in town after such a long journey I had to see her. Very friendly woman and her charge is the loveliest young thing imaginable, present company excepted of course."

Jane felt her face turn an ever deeper shade of crimson.

"Anyway, I don't think the poor women know a soul in London, so naturally I extended an invitation to the ball. And what do you think they did? They turned it down! They said they absolutely could not go out that soon (great minds, eh Eliza?) but I told them to reconsider. All things considered though, I don't really expect them to make it, and I categorically refuse to be denied _all_ these newcomers, so you must come."

"Well Jane," Henry turned to his sister, obviously stifling laughter. "I think the decision is yours. Do you feel up to attending?"

"Oh, Henry, please, I couldn't possibly- You and Eliza must decide."

"No Jane," Eliza teased. "You are clearly the one that Mr. Russo wants, so it's up to you. Henry and I will do whatever you choose."

Jane couldn't help but feel abandoned. "Well, I…"

She looked up at Mr. Russo. He may have overwhelmed her at first, but she couldn't deny that he did seem to be an incredibly kind human being. "I would be happy to attend."

Mr. Russo clapped his hands together. "Fantastic! I'll see you all Thursday evening then! Now, I should be off. Emily was holding supper until my return."

Without further delay Mr. Russo bowed, and to Jane's relief, exited the room without repeating the amorous actions of his arrival.

As soon as she heard the front door close behind him, Jane turned to her brother and sister. "Who was that?"

The sight of her wide eyes was too much for Eliza and Henry, and they burst into laughter. Eliza was the first to regain her composure and on doing so took Jane's hands and sat her down on the sofa beside herself.

"That, my dearest Jane, was Mr. Russo."

"Yes, I'd gathered that. I can't say I've ever met anybody quite like him."

Eliza chuckled again. "Mr. Russo _is_ one of a kind, and he is the single best man we know."

"Is he always so friendly?"

Henry had finally calmed enough to speak. "He's Italian, Jane."

Jane raised her eyebrows. "Italian?"

"Yes cousin, did not you notice his accent?"

"I thought I did, but… It's not very strong, is it?"

"Well, he's lived in England for over twenty years Jane. His accent has lessened. His habits, however, have not."

Jane glared at her brother who still seemed to be delighting in her bewilderment.

"Now Henry," Eliza began. "Do not torment your sister. Mr. Russo has the same effect on all of us when we first meet him. Oh but Jane he really is the nicest man. I'm sure you will like him. And his wife is the dearest creature in the world. The two of your will become great friends. She's just a few years older than you are and extremely sweet!"

"Eliza is right Jane. You'll like the Russos."

"I'm sure I will. I was just a little bit shocked."

"Well you'll be prepared for Mr. Russo Thursday evening at any rate."

"Yes, I suppose I will have to be." Jane sighed. "I wish now I hadn't accepted the invitation."

"Oh you'll be glad you did." Eliza reassured her. "The Russos hold marvelous balls. They always have so many wonderful guests. Perhaps you will-"

Eliza paused, apparently reconsidering her words, and completely broke off, shaking her head.

"What is it Eliza?"

Eliza hesitated. Finally she took Jane's hands and pressed them gently. "Perhaps," she began quietly, delicately. "You will find yourself forgetting your Irish friend."

Jane felt herself color and her throat constrict slightly, but continued to hold her cousin's gaze. As much as she loved her brother and his wife she didn't feel comfortable with them knowing just how deeply she still cared for Tom Lefroy. "Perhaps, Eliza, but I am more inclined to think otherwise."

"Well."

The women looked up at Henry, Jane grateful for the interruption.

"Well you will have fun Jane, _especially_ if they haven't sent the children to bed."

Eliza smiled. "Oh yes, I hadn't even thought of that! The Russos rarely hold a ball in which their children are absent. They're such dears! The funniest, sweetest little ones imaginable. Twelve of them altogether and all adopted."

"Twelve adopted children?" Jane echoed incredulously. "That's unusual, isn't it?"

"Not for the Russos." Eliza assured her. "They love nothing better than plucking poor, forgotten urchins off the street and giving them a home."

Jane smiled, warming greatly to the idea of this couple, an older man and a young woman who took in anybody in need. "They do sound like lovely people."

"They are, Jane."

"As are their balls." Henry added. "You will not be sorry you accepted."

A tap on the door followed by the entrance of the housekeeper put a stop to the conversation. "Supper will be ready in a quarter of an hour."

Henry inclined his head. "Thank you Margaret."

Margaret curtsied and left, Eliza rising as she did so. "Well then. Jane, I suppose you and I had betters dress. I'll tell you all about the Russos' fabulous balls upstairs."

Jane smiled and rose as well, following her cousin out of the room, her mind full of the idea of her first engagement in London- her first outing in the city since she had stayed in the home of Judge Langlois with Tom.


	6. The Unexpected

Chapter 6

"Relax Jane."

Henry laughed as he watched his sister fidget. "You act as if you've never before attended a ball."

Jane stilled and bestowed a nervous smile upon her brother. "I've never attended a ball in London."

"They are no different than in Hampshire, I assure you."

Jane nodded and turned away, still unconvinced. She set her sights outside of the carriage windows and watched the street lamps being lit and the men and women parading along the sidewalk to parties and theatres. She caught sight of a fair young woman clutching the arm of a darker haired man and immediately thought of her sister.

Smiling faintly she turned back to Henry and Eliza. "I was Cassandra was here."

Eliza grasped her cousin's hands. "She would want you to have a good time. You wrote to tell her you would be attending your first London ball, did you not?"

"Of course."

"Then she is surely wondering how you are doing at this very moment. She will be expecting a letter filled with the details, and she will want them to be cheerful ones."

The carriage came to a halt and Henry flashed his sister a broad grin. "Here we are."

With the thought of a loving sister at home eager for her happiness Jane was able to watch her brother exit the carriage with composure. By the time her sister-in-law had been handed out Jane was even able to subdue her nerves. Taking a deep breath, she gave her brother her arm and alighted the carriage.

The crisp air embraced her bare arms as soon as they had touched the outdoors and Jane hugged her shawl around herself tightly. Shivering, she looked up at the Russo residence and soon caught herself gaping. The house was enormous and lit brightly from the inside, giving it the appearance of a good-natured jack-o-lantern. The front door was open and Jane could see a vast number of bodies milling about inside.

"Goodness, I believe they are acquainted with all of London." Jane exclaimed.

"You would think so to attend one of their parties."

As they drew closer to the house, Jane could clearly see three little boys chasing each other around the foyer. "Their children?"

Eliza looked where Jane was indicating and smiled. "Yes, those are the three eldest boys."

Jane felt herself smile and began to genuinely relax. A house lit so brightly with young children running amongst the guests had to be a friendly, comforting one.

She took the steps with a lightened heart and entered the burning hall, blinking to adjust to the dazzling surroundings. Music was already pouring out of an inner ballroom, clear and melodious. Just under it, Jane perceived a buzz of conversation, punctured every now and then by an unrefined laugh, characteristic of children.

"And this _is_ a private ball?"

"Only in as much as there are invitations."

"Who is that with Mrs. Russo?"

Henry's query drew Eliza's and Jane's attention forward towards the entrance of the ballroom. There Jane saw a tall, pretty young woman with a pleasant smile and a mass of raven black hair. Beside her stood a young man with the same friendly smile and the same raven hair.

"That must be Emily's brother!" Eliza cried. "It appears he's finally found time to come down to London."

Henry nodded slightly and led his wife and sister to the lady and the gentleman in question.

"Mr. and Mrs. Austen, how good to see you! And this must be Miss Jane."

Jane smiled and was truly set at ease. Mrs. Russo wasn't nearly as overpowering as her husband while being every bit as warm.

"Allow me to introduce my brother, Mr. Charles Beall."

Jane repeated her curtsy to Mr. Beall and on looking up found herself quite charmed with his face as well as pleasantly surprised on discovering that he was the picture of Mr. Darcy, albeit a friendly one.

His coal black hair was thick and mussed looking and matched his sparkling, dark eyes. He was similar in height to her hero, but not quite so brawny. And, of course, the smile on his face utterly banished any idea of a scowl ever making its home on his brow.

"You're a stranger here as well, Miss Austen?"

Jane smiled, finding herself even more drawn to him by the quiet steadiness in his voice. "I've only been to London once before."

"Than as you and I are two of a kind I would consider it a great honor if you would consent to being my partner for the opening dance."

Jane's smile widened and somewhere in the recesses of her mind she found herself wondering how she had ever felt nervous about the ball. "Certainly Mr. Beall."

Mr. Beall bowed, Jane curtsied, and Eliza and Henry led the way into the ballroom.

"Emily's brother is rather charming; do not you think so Jane?" Eliza inquired slyly.

"Mr. Beall seems quite nice." Jane acceded. "I like him."

"He seems to like you too."

Jane ignored the hint in the statement and instead turned her attention to the crowded ballroom. From inside, there actually seemed to be fewer people than she had originally believed. Still, it was a stretch for a private ball. Everywhere Jane looked there were men and women laughing and talking. They were all dressed splendidly, making Jane grateful for the last minute decision to borrow a gown of Eliza's, even if it did not quite fit her.

Ahead, Jane saw the three little boys she had before perceived from far away. This time they were standing in a corner looking a little ashamed of themselves and a little resentful of the older girl in front of them, perhaps ten years old, who appeared to be playing the part of the stern adult. At her side clung a younger girl, probably no more than five years old, smiling gaily at all the guests and apparently oblivious to the dressing down that her brothers were receiving right next to her.

Just as she started wondering where the rest of the children could be, Jane felt something bump into her. She looked down and discovered a curly headed boy smiling sheepishly up at her and a little girl just behind him.

"Hello." Jane greeted the little obstacle as he backed away from her.

"Hullo."

"Gregory, apologize!"

Jane turned her attention to the little girl, greatly amused at the look of indignation on her face.

"That wasn't nice- running into her."

Gregory's smile disappeared and he looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry."

Jane smiled. "That's quite alright Gregory. Is this your sister?"

Gregory, who on seeing Jane's smile had broken into his own grin, nodded and took his sister's hand. "This is Emma."

"We're twins." Emma volunteered.

"Just like Mama and Uncle Charlie!"

"Ah…"

Jane heard the note of realization sound from Eliza, who had been observing the exchange from behind.

"Who are you?"

Emma gave her brother a dirty look. "That's not polite."

Beside her, Jane saw Henry bend down and reach out to Emma. He tugged lightly on one of her braids until he could provoke a smile and then turned to Gregory.

"This, Gregory, is _my_ sister, Miss Jane."

"Oh."

Gregory seemed to be fishing for something else to say. Finally striking up a new thought, he turned to Jane. "You're very pretty Miss Jane."

Jane had to chuckle. "Thank you Gregory."

He smiled and looked to his sister as if checking for her approval. Happily, he received no reprimand, and, finished with Jane, he turned to Henry, who, as he was still on his own level, was clearly more appealing.

"How old are they?" Jane asked Eliza quietly.

"Seven."

Jane smiled. "They are lucky to have each other."

"They are lucky to have the Russos."

Jane nodded, quite of the same mind, and turned to look for the benefactors in question in the sea of faces. She spotted Mrs. Russo a ways off, still with her brother by her side, talking animatedly to a child she had not yet seen. Seconds after locating the wife she heard the booming laugh of the husband. She shifted her gaze and scanned the crowd in the opposite direction.

Suddenly, her visual search came to an end. She felt the color drain from her face. Her skin prickled and the heat fled her body. Her breathing slowed, and she found herself forgetting to take in air at all.

There in the same room, with the same brown hair and bright eyes was none other than Tom Lefroy.

As abruptly as sensation left her, it returned. She gasped to fill her empty lungs with oxygen and found herself becoming woozy. Heat returned, flooding her body, contributing to her lightheadedness. Her breathing continued, but it became faster and faster until an involuntary sob escaped her.

"Jane?"

Jane put a hand to her mouth and turned to face her solicitous sister-in-law.

"Jane what's wrong?"

Jane shook her head and squeezed her eyelids shut, putting a hasty but decided halt to the emergence of tears.

Eliza turned away from her sister hesitantly. "Henry."

Henry looked up into his wife's anxious face and his gaze immediately flicked to his sister, clearly distressed. Hurriedly, he dismissed his young friends and stood.

"Jane, what is it?"

Jane swallowed, finally getting a level of control over her emotions. "I am sorry. Henry, please, could we leave?"

"Well, certainly Jane, but why? What has you so upset?"

Jane put a hand over her still slightly heaving chest. "Tom."

Twin expressions of shock appeared on the faces of Henry and Eliza. They turned simultaneously, looking for the man in question. On locating him they turned back to Jane.

"Jane, I'm so sorry. He- he told us he was returning to Ireland. I don't understand…"

"It's alright Henry. I just- I need some air. I need to leave."

"Yes, of course, just wait a moment."

Henry disappeared and Jane took the period of his absence to compose herself. He returned quickly.

"I've ordered the carriage. Now we must take our leave."

"Let's find Emily, Henry. I do not think it would be good for Jane to see Mr. Russo now."

Henry nodded and led the way through the crowd to where he had last seen Mrs. Russo. Jane followed, an arm linked through Eliza's for support, breathing normally at last, but still coping with a feeling of dizziness. She kept her eyes forward, resisting the urge to seek Tom out, knowing it would bring about another surge of emotion.

"There you are Austen! And Eliza and Miss Jane! Emily said you were here!"

Mr. Russo stood before them looking as merry as he had on his visit, but instead of cheering her, his presence increased Jane's agitation; for every second he stood before them was a second lost in making an exit.

"Russo, if you'll excuse us, we must leave."

"Leave? Why you've just arrived!"

"My sister is unwell."

Mr. Russo turned a concerned face towards Jane. "You are not too ill, I hope?"

Jane shook her head emphatically. "No, I just don't feel quite like myself."

"You will make our excuses to Emily?" Eliza added.

"Of course." He turned back to Jane and laid a sympathetic hand on her arm. "Do take care of yourself. I will not be cheated of your company for long."

Jane smiled

Henry cleared his throat. "Now, I suppose the carriage is here. We will see you soon, Russo, I am sure."

To her surprise, Mr. Russo said no more. He left, and Jane found herself being guided out of the house into the evening air.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- _-- --_

"… and Miss Jane!"

The voice carried across the room to the unoccupied ear of Tom Lefroy.

The name was like an electric shock to tom. One moment his mind was wandering aimlessly away from the young lady on his arm and the elegant couple who was speaking to him, and the next it was running at a break neck pace, trying to decide whether it had actually heard the words or had processed them incorrectly. After a mental struggle that lasted mere seconds and felt like an eternity, Tom twisted his head slightly to look in the direction of the voice.

He felt his heart stop. There was Jane Austen. There, in the same city, at the same ball, was Jane, looking more beautiful than every. His mind, though already in overdrive, kicked into a higher gear and a million questions formed. First and foremost, why was she there? Why was she in London? Surely Henry and Eliza had told her they kept the same company as he did! Surely she realized she would have to see him! Had she truly, already, moved past him? Them? How could she have?

Yet here she was with her brother and sister-in-law, breathtakingly lovely.

Tom frowned.

Something didn't seem right. Even from a distance Tom could see an unnatural coloring in her normally alabaster complexion and an expression of pain on her face, subtle, but clear to one so familiar with her. Sympathy, the need to touch and comfort her, bubbled to the surface and began to compete with conflicting feelings on astonishment and hurt already there.

She looked so upset, so shaken, and Tom couldn't keep himself from wondering if perhaps the emotions on her face, so closely matching the ones he was currently dealing with, were caused by the sight of him. But his feelings had their roots in the love he still held for her. If she had steeled her heart against him already, why would he excite those same emotions?

It didn't make sense.

"Tom? Tom, are you alright?"

The spell broke and Tom whipped around to look down into the innocent face of his fiancé.

"Yes, yes. I'm sorry. I'm just… I'm just not feeling quite like myself."


	7. The Last Place You'd Think to Look

_Author's Note: By the looks of things, I may have to change my update days to Tuesday and Friday. Oddly enough, I seem to have more time to write on school days than weekends. Anyway, thanks again for your reviews and I hope you enjoy the chapter!_

Chapter 7: The Last Place You'd Think to Look

Tom brushed the top of his hat aimlessly, staring out of his bedroom window into the semi-darkness of an early morning in London. He had a meeting with a judge at a quarter to eight. It had been months since he'd even been dressed at a quarter to eight.

But the early hours were irrelevant this morning. Tom hadn't slept longer than two hours that night- had been awake since four that morning. Sound sleep was a joke, completely out of the question. How could one be expected to sleep peacefully when they had just seen the love of their life?

He couldn't erase the image of Jane from his psyche. Her face from the previous evening was burned into his mind's eye and no matter what he did he could not forget the sight. He was still chiding himself for not approaching her even though he knew it wouldn't have been the best time.

There was a soft knock on the door. Tom sighed and set aside his hat. Heavily, he got to his feet and strode over to the door.

"Please sir, it is half past seven."

Tom nodded vacantly at the young maid. "Thank you Marianne."

The girl curtsied and walked off. Tom watched her without really seeing her as she left and sighed again. Slowly, almost lethargically, he turned back into the room to obtain the abandoned hat and then exited, almost forgetting to close the door behind him. A dull pounding in his head as he descended the stairs reminded him of his negligence of breakfast, but he resigned himself to the headache as he had no appetite to try to counteract it.

He pulled on his green, velvet coat, thinking of how often he'd considered packing it away indefinitely after his trip to Hampshire. The times were too numerous to count, yet he could never bring himself to bury a link, albeit a feeble one, to Jane.

Heaving a heavy sigh for the hundredth time since the previous evening, Tom pushed open the great front door and froze on the steps.

He stared for some time at the sidewalk before him. Jane, who on hearing the door open had looked to the source of the noise, met his gaze and fixated him with one of her own. It took several mind-numbingly long seconds before Tom was able to convince himself that the vision before him was not imagined. It took longer before he was able to push past emotions and remember what good breeding required.

He bowed. "Miss Austen."

Just before Jane curtsied Tom could see the shocked, deer-like expression in her eyes vanish.

"Mr. Lefroy."

Tom felt his mouth begin to go dry. He couldn't think. He knew something had to be said or else she'd continue walking by, and God! He didn't want her to leave! Yet no words would come. The only question, urgent and insistent, was what she was doing alone in the middle of London so early in the morning.

But he knew he could not pose it. Propriety dictated it was too personal a question, too inappropriate to ask her. Jane would appreciate the irony of his situation if only she knew it. Not being able to ask a personal question of woman he had once been so familiar with.

At last a query formed.

"How is your family?"

"We're all well, thank you."

Silence.

"And yours Mr. Lefroy?"

"All well."

Another pause, broken only by the faint twittering of birds.

"You are not ill then?" Tom asked at last.

A look of confusion spread across Jane's countenance. "Sorry?"

"You looked ill last night."

"You saw me?"

Tom felt convinced by the note of unhappy surprise in Jane's voice that he too had not gone unnoticed.

"That is, my brother and sister and I were there for no more than a quarter of an hour. I am surprised we were observed by you."

Tom nodded. In a happier time he would've complimented her on the verbal cover. "I just saw you as you were leaving. Were you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I was just a little overheated."

Suddenly seized by the urge to try to reestablish an ounce of their former connection, Tom hazarded a statement loaded with implications. "I was too."

The effect of the softly murmured statement was not lost on Jane. Tom did not fail to notice the fain color that rushed to her cheeks.

Though gratified by the evidence of sentiment, Tom was still frustrated and puzzled. She seemed to share his feelings. But that still left the question of why she had voluntarily come to London unanswered.

"I must admit that I am rather surprised to see you, Mr. Lefroy. I was under the impression that you were in Limerick."

The answer to the silent question. Tom could hardly believe he'd forgotten something that had been the cause of so much frustration. He had told Eliza and Henry about his planned departure, and of course they had told Jane. How could he have expected them not to?

So Jane hadn't expected to find him in London.

"Yes, I thought I would be in Limerick as well. My uncle, however, decided that I needed to lengthen my stay in London. Apparently, I am not yet ready for practice."

Jane nodded and Tom noticed a crease start to form in her brow. She looked as if she wanted to say something. Mentally, Tom urged her to do so.

"The young woman who was with you at the ball last night- she's your fiancée?"

Of all the things she could've asked.

"Yes," Tom admitted, with some difficulty. "That was Miss Mary Paul. She is visiting London with her chaperone, a Mrs. Watson."

Comprehension could be seen dawning on Jane's face, but she said nothing. Tom wished she would speak. He hated not knowing her mind.

"Well, Mr. Lefroy, I believe I am detaining you."

Tom refused to respond, feeling that his silence could keep Jane from leaving.

"I hope you have a pleasant day, Mr. Lefroy."

Jane curtsied, and hesitantly and grudgingly, Tom bowed. "I hope you do too Miss Austen."

Jane inclined her head and continued on her way. Tom watched until she had turned the corner at the end of the block. At last, he dismounted the front steps and proceeded to his appointment, his mind muddled even more greatly than before.

-LDS-

Jane hurried back to the house with her heart and mind full.

She had headed to bed directly after returning home the previous evening; Henry and Eliza had mercifully allowed her to do so rather than pressing her to talk. Jane had been grateful and had spent the evening trying to clear her head so that she might be better able to discuss things the next morning. She had attempted to write about Lizzie and Darcy, about some new ideas, even to Cassie. She had spent some intervals shedding distressed tears, others in a confused silence. The only things she hadn't accomplished were sleeping and clearing her head.

So she had left her room in the wee hours of the morning to take a walk. Fresh air, she was sure, would settle her spirits and allow her to think more plainly. She had a feeling that a woman walked alone in the city at dawn was not smiled upon by Londoners in general, but the thought failed too upset her too greatly. Barely a soul was up to see her anyway. And she had things to think about that were more important than propriety.

The morning air had been working its magic when she had come face to face with Tom. The quiet, so unnatural in London, had done wonders to soothe her jangled nerves and she'd almost banished all thoughts of the ball. However, arctic blue eyes and a sweet voice that she hadn't heard for above a year brought the night before flooding back.

The ensuing conversation was, all things considered, uncomfortable. Though most of their comments had been civil, a few things had been said to make her blush. And it was not so much the words that were used as the idea of speaking to Tom after so much had happened, and doing it alone.

The interview was short and Jane had rushed away at the earliest opportunity, expected to have to hide tears. To her surprise, none came. Frazzled as she had been while talking to him, a calm had passed over her when she sensed that she was out of his sight. Confronting him was over. She had remained outwardly calm, even if her insides _were_ in turmoil. She could see him and stay in control. It was a comfort.

She turned into the steps of the house and quietly let herself in the front door. Eliza was standing at the foot of the stairs in her dressing gown with Henry coming down the stairs behind her.

"You've been out?" Eliza asked incredulously.

Jane nodded, removing her outdoor shoes. "I thought the fresh air would be helpful."

"You were alone before eight in the morning in London? Jane, you can't-"

"It's okay Henry." Jane said quietly, cutting across her brother. "Scarcely anybody was about."

"It's not safe Jane!"

"Perhaps you do not think so, but I assure you that I was in no danger."

Henry looked exasperated. "And do you plan to make these solitary jaunts a habit?"

Jane was momentarily quiet. "It helped."

Henry did nothing save for shaking his head.

Jane looked down at the floor, thinking. The topic would be brought up later. It could not be avoided forever. There was no reason not to broach it right away. "I met Tom."

Henry and Eliza turned to gaze at Jane in amazement.

Jane elaborated. "Not long ago. He was coming out of his uncle's house."

A quizzical expression slowly forming on Henry's face made Jane blush.

"I did not intend to go down that street. I was not minding where I was going."

The expression was replaced by a different one, one that held more indecision than confusion, as he looked to his wife. Jane watched as a mute exchange took place between the two.

"Jane," Henry began, addressing his sister at last. "Eliza and I were talking last night. We don't know why Tom has remained here."

"His Uncle would not allow him to leave."

Henry met the succinct explanation with silence.

"I am sorry Henry, do go on."

"Yes, well, we certainly don't want to make you uncomfortable. If you would like to return to Steventon, Jane, we will be willing to take you at a moment's notice."

Jane said nothing, mulling over the offer. Finally she looked up at her elder brother. "Don't be silly Henry, I don't want to leave you and Eliza yet. I will not be scared out of London by Tom Lefroy."

"Are you sure Jane?"

Jane nodded. "Tom is here, and I will have to handle being in his presence. This will be good for me Henry. Trust me."


	8. Invites Never End

_Author's Note: So here's another short, not so hot chapter. But hey, the whole story couldn't be exciting, or there wouldn't be a climax, would there? ;)_

Chapter 8: Invites Never End

"That was Tom's fiancée?"

Jane nodded from her desk by the window. The meeting with tom had done her a much greater good than she might have expected. Her creativity was now flowing freely, as her ink-stained fingers and nose readily attested. The day was passing by rapidly as her pen flew over_ First Impressions_ and the newly formed _Elinor and Marianne_, and she could scarcely believe it was past noon when she finally hit a rut and stopped to talk with Eliza.

"It was. Her name is Mary Paul."

"Indeed? She's very…"

"Handsome?"

Eliza turned her eyes away from her cousin in what Jane took as a sign of guilty consent.

"It's alright Eliza. I think she is too."

"Well, remember, we did not see her very well, cousin."

In the merry that had overtaken her thanks to her surge of creativity, Jane actually laughed. "Oh Eliza! Miss Paul is extremely pretty; do not attempt a denial in order to spare my feelings!"

Eliza said nothing and Jane continued.

"I learned something interesting about her as well."

"Oh?"

"Her companion is one Mrs. Watson."

"No!" Eliza opened her mouth in shock. "Mr. Russo's Mrs. Watson?"

"Well I can't say for sure, but it makes sense, does it not? Mr. Russo said the ladies had come from Ireland."

"Yes, it does make sense. Strange, isn't it? The relationships people have with one another?"

Jane dropped her pen and pushed some stray girls behind her ears. She closed her eyes, took a deep, steady breath, and exhaled. "Yes, yes it is."

"You are sure you're alright?"

Jane thought back for a moment to the morning's meeting, but quickly pushed it away. She had seen him, had talked with him, and had survived. She was not going to dwell when she had already taken an enormous personal step towards overcoming her, now highly inappropriate, feelings for the engaged young Irishman.

She gaze Eliza a small, but assuring smile. "Yes, I am alright. I think… I think meeting Tom was actually just what I needed. It was helpful. He saw us at the ball, you know."

Eliza raised her eyebrows. "Did he?"

Jane nodded, fragments of the morning's meeting flashing before her eyes despite her best efforts to repress them. "He thought I was ill."

"That's understandable."

Jane made a sound of garbled agreement before bringing her pen to her lips and turning back to her notes. "Do you like the name Elinor?"

"Yes, very much. I think it's lovely."

Jane nodded vaguely. "I think so too."

Yes, Elinor would be wonderful. Elegant and sensible, just as the character in question, the character who was so much like her own beloved sister.

"Excuse me."

Jane glanced up at Margaret as she stood primly inside the door.

"Yes Margaret?"

"There is a Mr. Beall to see yourself and Miss Austen, ma'am."

Jane watched as a mischievous smile lit her cousin's face and turned away before Eliza caught her.

"Show him in please, Margaret."

The door shut behind the housekeeper with a snap and Jane could sense Eliza's eyes boring into the back of her neck.

"I wonder what that can be about."

Jane said nothing, but got to her feet along with her cousin, wiping her fingers on the equally stained pinafore she was removing.

The door opened again, and this time Mr. Beall entered with a jaunty step, wearing the same cheerful smile as the previous evening.

"Mrs. Austen."

He bowed, and Eliza curtsied.

"Miss-"

Jane felt her own smile falter slightly as she watched the corner of Mr. Beall's lips twitch in what she could only imagine was amusement. Though at what, she shuddered to think.

"Miss Jane."

He bowed, and Jane curtsied in response, now beginning to feel nervous. On rising she found him watching her with the same entertained expression. At last, he raised a finger to his nose and tapped it.

Jane stood before him for a few seconds longer, utterly confused, and now incredibly awkward.

"Have you been composing a letter Miss Jane?"

"Oh!" Jane blushed furiously and turned to find the discarded pinafore. Hastily, she rubbed the ink off of her nose.

Satisfied, but still flushed, she presented her face to Mr. Beall again.

He smiled, but said nothing, and Jane found her embarrassment dissipating.

"Please have a seat Mr. Beall."

"Thank you Mrs. Austen."

Jane walked over to place herself beside of Eliza on the sofa.

"Well sir," Eliza began airily. "It's very good to see you. Your sister and brother and their children are well, I hope?"

"Very, thank you. So well, in fact, that they sent me here with an errand when I informed them that I intended to pay you a visit."

"Oh, and what was the original purpose of your visit?"

"I was hoping to find Miss Jane well."

He turned to face Jane. "You are feeling better?"

Jane felt herself flush again, this time with pleasure. She could not help but be flattered.

"Yes, thank you Mr. Beall. And I must apologize for breaking out engagement for the first dance."

The apology was given rather rapidly, as Jane had completely forgotten about the dance until that moment. "I'm sure you were able to find another partner."

"Certainly not. I sat out the first dance on principle. How could I be expected to do otherwise when my partner had just been taken ill?"

"Oh, but it wasn't serious Mr. Beall! You should not have felt any obligation."

"I thank you for your concern Miss Jane, but I assure you I did not feel the loss of the dance, just your company."

Jane smiled, but while only half-believing the apparently sincere remark.

"Now that I am convinced, however, that you are out of danger, I will come to the task with which I was recently charged."

"Continue then, sir, please."

Mr. Beall nodded at Eliza politely. "Well madam, my sister and brother-in-law will be hosting a dinner party Wednesday and they insist that you, your husband, and your sister attend."

"A party for fifty of their closest friends, surely?"

Mr. Beall turned to look at Jane, his eyebrows raised and his face all astonishment.

Jane realized that humor was as of yet not something Mr. Beall had encountered from her, and his reaction almost left her wishing she'd remained silent.

To her infinite relief, he burst into a clear peal of laughter. "It would seem that way!"

His laughter died away fairly quickly, but nonetheless Jane was relieved, and more than a little pleased.

"No," He continued, the wondering, merry smile still in place. "In all honesty I believe they are keeping the guest list to no more than thirty."

This time Eliza laughed. "Oh, Mr. Beall, your sister and her husband amaze me! Not a week after a ball and they are already arranging dinner for thirty."

Mr. Beall chuckled. "I've always held a certain amount of awe for my sister. So, you will be able to come? And stay?"

Jane caught Mr. Beall's sidelong glance and smiled.

"We must check with Henry, Mr. Beall, but I am sure there is no reason why we should not be able to attend."

Satisfied, Mr. Beall stood. "Wonderful! We will look forward to seeing you. Please pass my regards along to you husband."

He bowed, bestowed another winning smile on Jane, and left with the same bouncy stride he had entered with.

Jane stayed on the sofa for some time by Eliza with a small, crooked smile plastered across her face. At last, she rose and floated over to her desk.

"He's very charming."

Jane heard her cousin's remark, but refused a response.

"Yes," Eliza continued, raising her voice slightly. "He is charming, handsome, pleasant, must be well off, and apparently, partial to you."

Jane could no longer bite her tongue. She swung around, still glowing. "Don't be ridiculous Eliza. He cannot be partial to me; I do not know him."

"But you do like him."

"Eliza…"

"Those _were_ your words, Jane."

"Eliza, please!"

Eliza laughed. "I am sorry. I will stop. I promise."

Jane sighed. "Thank you."

She picked up her pen and took out a fresh sheet of paper. Finally, she felt able to write to Cassandra and tell her everything.

The salutation had been written and the pen taken out of the inkwell to begin the body of the letter when a short, hesitant sound from Eliza stopped the motion of her pen.

She looked up and met Eliza's rather peculiar gaze.

"Yes?"

"I did not think of this when Mr. Beall was here, but Tom is probably an invitee."

"Oh."

Jane looked back at the letter. "I believe you are right Eliza."

"Would you still like to attend?"

Jane nodded. "I will have to face him in society at some time Eliza, and the sooner the better."


	9. Driving Miss Mary

_Author's Note: I humbly apologize for making this update so late. I'm completely overwhelmed with school. We've had extra history lectures ridiculously often recently to prepare us for the AP exam in about a week and a half. And it's because of said AP exam that I may not be able to update regularly for a while. I'll try to as often as possible, but until the end of the school year in about four weeks, they'll be kind of scattered. With that said, I hope you like the update! I think it's pretty good actually, a **lot** better than last Friday's at least. Can't wait to hear your opinions!_

Chapter 9: Driving Miss Mary

"You sure you ought to be doing this, sir? You sure you know how to drive those horses? Mind you, I don't want anything happening to 'em. Your uncle will put me out of a job."

Tom took off his jacket and tossed it onto the seat of the carriage. His hat followed, and he turned up the cuffs of his sleeves.

"I can handle them George."

"Eh, maybe you can, but do you think the judge'll like it?"

Tom swung himself into the driver's seat of the carriage. He took the reins in his hands and shot a look of loathing at his uncle's house, then turned to George, the coachman.

"No, I'm sure he won't."

George chuckled. "Mr. Tom, I don't know why your uncle doesn't send you back where you came from. You're always upsetting him. A man might be led to believe you enjoy doing it."

Tom grinned with a kind of savage pleasure. "Go ahead and get in George."

George laughed and shook his head at the temper of the young gentleman, but climbed into the carriage just the same.

"Nice as this is Mr. Tom, I'd feel better if I were up there and you were back here."

"Don't worry George. You're safe. So are the horses."

Tom gritted his teeth and set the horses in motion.

Truth be told, he knew very little about driving. His meager experience handling horses had come from his time in Hampshire, and, much like hunting, he'd never really gotten he knack of it. But he knew these horses. They were old and about as tame as an animal could be. And if pressed, Tom wouldn't hesitate to admit that if they ran wildly through London, he wouldn't mind. In his current mood, he hoped they would.

As it was, he was already planning to drive through the heart of the city with his coachman relaxing inside. It was the evening and half the population was about. Somebody would notice the Judge Langlois' young nephew, sloppily attired, driving the held around, and it was madness to believe otherwise than that they would inform his uncle for at least no other reason than to lord it over the conceited old judge.

Tom relished the thought. His uncle would be embarrassed, yet again, by the nephew's antics. Some new punishment would be inflicted, but it was worth it, especially now when the worst punishment of all was unavoidable.

Tom turned a corner and pulled on the reins, conscious for the first time that he was traveling a little faster than he ought to have been, and for all his meditation about making a scene, he did not want to injure the animals. He turned again and slowed the horses even further so that he would not miss his destination.

At last he saw it. He stopped the horses and sighed. George climbed, or rather, stumbled out of the carriage, grinning, with Tom's jacket in hand. Tom remained seated a while longer, staring glumly at the house he was in front of.

Finally, he hopped down. He turned down his sleeves, slowly, and took his jacket from George, fixing that as leisurely as possible.

A laugh from George caught his attention.

"You're picking up a lady, sir, not the grim reaper."

Tom glared at him. "Have you ever been the victim of an arranged marriage, George?"

"No, sir, can't say I have. I married my Harriet of my own accord."

"Then you cannot understand how terrible it feels to have to court your obligatory fiancée."

"Especially when you've already picked out a girl yourself, eh?"

Tom raised an eyebrow and his nostrils flared. "What could you possibly know about that?"

George chuckled, the same scratchy, hardy chuckle he'd had for as long as Tom had known him. "Nothing, Mr. Tom. Nothing that it's my place knowing."

Tom nodded, his mind straying to the inevitable walk to the door that he would have to take now that his coat was fully buttoned and his hat was in place. "You know our destination?"

"Yes sir. Of course sir. I've lived in London my entire life sir."

Tom sniffed irritably. "You know what I meant."

Reluctantly, he took a step up the walk, then another, then a few more until he found himself at the door. He rapped and took a deep breath. He did, after all, have the decency to try to be pleasant.

The door opened and the housekeeper showed him inside, saying that Miss Mary was just finishing preparations and would be down shortly and would he please wait in the parlor? Mercifully, Mrs. Watson was nowhere to be found, and he was able to wait on the young woman in peace.

A surprisingly short five minutes passed, and Mary entered, smiling brightly.

"Tom! It's so good to see you."

Tom winced at the use of his given name. In his opinion, an engagement did not equate familiarity.

"Miss Paul. You look very nice."

She really did. The ocean blue dress she was clad in, in combination with her glossy locks and shining eyes made her look particularly pretty, and perhaps a little older, (but only a little), than she usually did.

"Shall we go?"

Mary nodded and led the way outside. Tom handed her into the carriage and followed himself with a quick look up at George in his customary position.

The horses started on their way and Mary turned an exuberant face to Tom.

"What are we going to see Tom?"

Tom groaned inwardly. The girl was not a friend to silence, or strict decorum, at least not in the presence of her peers.

"There is a production of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ on this evening. This is agreeable to you, I hope?"

"Oh yes! Really, the play makes very little different to me. I was just so excited when I heard we were to go to the theatre!"

"You are a lover of the theatre then?" Tom asked dully, more for the sake of keeping up a conversation she seemed to want than any real desire to know.

"I wish I could say. I believe I would be. I've never been, you see."

Tom's interest was caught, if only slightly. "Never?"

Mary shook her head.

"Surely, you jest."

"No… I've never had the opportunity to go, I suppose. My part of Wexford is quite remote."

"Yes, well perhaps you never attended the theatre at home, but certainly in large towns and cities.

Mary shook her head again. "I've never, that is until now, left home."

The statement was mind boggling. An heiress, a young woman of considerable family and fortune had never left the confines of her home, apparently had never so much as explored her own country. The thought was ludicrous. Though, perhaps it did explain why, even for somebody so young, she seemed unusually childlike at times.

"This trip to London is your first time out of Wexford?"

"Yes. In fact, my mother and father were very hesitant to let me come. There are times I am sorry I left them. I often think how lonely they must be. I have no brothers or sisters, you see."

An image of a young girl, grinning widely, sitting between her mother and father came to Tom's mind for a brief moment before fading. Another followed, a memory of his childhood among his siblings, and he felt a pang of pity for the girl who grew up without a playmate.

"Well, I'm sure the loss of your company is greatly felt by your parents. But you must be a great comfort to Mrs. Watson."

Mary smiled. Tom noticed she had dimples.

"I hope so. She has been so good to me. She is practically a member of our family."

Tom had to work extremely hard to master the urge to groan. Even if Mary Paul did not take after her neighbor, the woman would certainly be a presence in their lives when they married. He was not sure he could handle both a wife he did not want and the unpleasant woman that would come with her without being driven insane.

Tom murmured some noncommittal response and looked away, eager to end a conversation that he had not been exceptionally keen on before and was now wholly against as it had turned to such an unpleasant topic. In what was perhaps her most considerate gesture yet, Mary remained silent, an action for which Tom was grateful.

None too soon, the carriage pulled up to the theatre. With a brave smile at his fiancée, Tom climbed out of the carriage. He handed Mary out and looked up at George, who grinned at him. Tom bit his tongue lest he say something indiscreet and turned away, listening to the carriage pass behind him.

Mary beamed at him, clearly excited, and Tom returned the smile, unable to contain his amusement at the naïve enthusiasm. Gallantly, and perhaps a little less unwillingly than before, he took her arm and led her into the theatre.

The entrance was crowded and stuffy and Tom had to use his free hand to tug at his collar which was beginning to feel unbearable. He glanced down and saw a flush spread across Mary's face, and he started to regret bringing her on what he had known would be a busy evening.

He leaned towards he and just before opening his mouth to inquire about how she was feeling he caught side of Henry Austen with his wife on one side and his sister on the other. Before he could look away, Henry met his eyes. The two men stared at each other for a moment before Tom nodded and broke the gaze. He stood in a half-confused, half-eager state of mind until he finally made a decision.

He tightened his grip on Mary's arm and started through the crowd in Henry's direction, not entirely sure he was making the right choice. But he could not avoid Jane forever, whether he want to or not. And his heart, at least, didn't want to. Painful as it would be to be near her, it would be, already had been, equally sweet, and he was not willing to give up that exquisite euphoria for anything.

Tom edged past an elderly couple, making sure to keep Mary close and found himself in front of Henry, Eliza, and Jane. Only a few feet separated them. Tom noticed that Jane was determinedly looking in another direction. Or maybe he was imagining that. Either way, he felt sure that Henry had prepared Jane for the encounter.

He took a few steps more and stopped. This was it.

"Henry. Eliza." He took a second, a barely perceptible one, to brace himself. "Miss Austen."

The words came out quieter, breathier than he would've liked, but at least they were out.

Henry said nothing, and Jane was still staring fixedly away from him, but to Tom's immense relief, a smile, though, he admitted, it seemed to be forced, formed on Eliza's lips.

"It's very good to see you again Tom. Henry and I were certain you would be in Limerick."

"Yes, there was a change of plans. May I introduce my-" The sentence remained incomplete for what felt to Tom like an eternity, hanging in mid-air and waiting to be finished. "My fiancée, Miss Mary Paul."

Tom uttered the introduction without looking at Jane. Instead, he looked down at Mary.

"These are friends of mine, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Austen and Mr. Austen's sister, Miss Jane Austen."

Mary curtsied. "You are friends of Tom? It is such a pleasure to meet you all. You must sit with us."

Tom felt his heart stop. She couldn't have just said that.

Eliza made a hasty reply. "Oh, Miss Paul, we could not possibly impose."

"But it would be no imposition! I'm sure Tom does not oppose, do you Tom?"

He was relieved when she continued rather than let him answer. He did not possess the slightest idea as to what he would say.

"I do so want to become better acquainted with Tom's friends. _Please_ join us."

Tom didn't, couldn't say anything. He was speechless, hoping and dreading that they would acquiesce to Mary's request. He watched as a heavily laden look passed between Jane and her brother.

Henry seemed to nod before turning back to Tom and Mary.

"Well if you have no objections Tom, we would be happy to join you."

Tom cleared his throat and attempted to smile without making his very confused feelings too plain. "No objections."


	10. Never Has Approval Been So Inconvenient

_Author's Note: I'm so sorry the update has taken so long! But my AP exam is over,_ **thankfully**_, and now I can sort of relax, so I think I'll be able to update fairly regularly again! Hopefully... This chapter isn't fantastic, which is kind of depressing considering how long I've left you guys hanging, but I don't think it's that bad, so I hope I'm not letting you down! Enjoy! Or try to anyway ;)_

Chapter 10: Never Has Approval Been So Inconvenient

Miss Mary Paul _was_ handsome, every bit as handsome as Jane had been able to ascertain from across a ballroom. Her face was pretty, open, and very friendly. It was no wonder then that Jane found herself both charmed by her and detesting her at once. She seemed young, quite young, and sweet, and Jane felt that if she had not been engaged to the very man she herself was in love with, she would like her very much.

She still thought so, despite and because of Mary's invitation, the one that had taken her completely off-guard. It felt as if the entire world knew of her failed elopement. She could scarcely believe that the person responsible for the ruination of her happiness was completely ignorant of doing so. Yet here she was smiling, innocently, inviting them all to sit with her and her fiancé so that she might get to know them better.

Jane hardly knew what to think. She had prepared herself for meeting with Tom in public, but she had not prepared herself for taking her place beside him in an intimate setting. Her head was still spinning when Henry caught her eyes, and she nodded without realizing it. A second later her brother was guiding her into the theatre and the full extent of her situation finally sunk in.

For a moment, her throat and chest were tightly knotted, and she felt certain that no amount of cheering could've stayed the tears that were threatening to fall. Miraculously, though, the moment passed, and she was steady. Her cheeks were still burning, ember-like, but her mind at least was clear. She was sure that she would jump a mile were he to so much as brush against her, but as long as she kept her distance she would be alright.

"Are you sure about this Jane?"

Jane looked up into the tightly lined face of her brother and flashed him a questionable smile.

"Don't worry Henry."

Her reassurance accomplished nothing. Henry tightened his grip on her arm, and his face remained taut and unmoving. It took a few lengthy seconds before he finally turned away.

Jane let out a great deal of air she'd been holding unknowingly and turned her gaze towards Tom. She had deliberately avoided his eyes on first meeting with him, but walking behind him gave her a substantial enough sense of security to hazard a glance his way.

She noticed that his hair had gotten longer. An obscure thing to observe perhaps, but observe it she did. The curly ends had reached the nape of his neck, and she wondered vaguely when he'd last seen a barber to have it trimmed.

He looked fidgety as well. He kept turning his head from side to side, looking at Mary, looking across the auditorium, and not leisurely, but rapidly, as if he had something to hide. His coloring, she observed, was off, and his cheeks which were normally ruddy but even were random splotches of red and white.

Jane continued to watch the unceasing pivot of Tom's head, and her breath caught when he swiveled around so much that he met her eye. She felt the color that had only recently faded rush back to her countenance, but she did not, would not, look away. She matched his piercing blue stare with her own hazel one, doing her best to calm the palpitations in her chest, telling herself it was just one more challenge she had to meet and overcome.

In keeping with his current behavior, Tom quickly turned away, but not before Jane discerned a slight parting of his lips as if he wanted to say something.

Jane felt a fleeting urge to smile at her victory, but it was quickly subdued when she found herself following Mary into a nearby row. She curled her fingers nervously around her skirt as she took her place in the seat beside the young lady, just two away from Tom. Gradually, her grip relaxed, and she glanced at Eliza who had just sat down beside her.

"We can leave Jane." Eliza whispered, placing a sympathetic hand on her arm.

Jane shook her head firmly and shifted her gaze to the stage, hoping to avoid any further comfort from her cousin.

"Jane-"

"No, Eliza, I'm fine."

She smiled, hoping to convince her.

Eliza sighed, apparently incredulous, and Jane looked away again. No sooner had she done so than her attention was grabbed once more, this time by the sweet, bright voice of Mary Paul.

"So Miss Austen, do you live here in London?"

Jane swallowed and turned a forced smile to someone for the third time that evening.

"No, I am here visiting with my brother and sister. My home is in Hampshire."

"Oh!" Mary turned to Tom excitedly. "Your uncle sent you Hampshire last year, did he not? Just before we became engaged?

Jane felt as if Mary had personally insulted her, but she remained composed. Mary did not know. But Tom did…

Curious, she glanced at Tom, and sure enough his lips were a hard line. But only briefly. The rigidity melted, and Jane was impressed by the façade he was able to call to his aid in such a short time.

"Yes. That was, in fact, where I first made Miss Austen's acquaintance."

Jane felt her nose begin to sting, a reliable sign that tears were making a second, determined effort to flow forth.

She did not want to relive it all.

"Then you are from the country too Miss Austen! Is this your first time in London?"

Jane winced as if struck. For someone who knew nothing of the pain of her situation, Mary was certainly exploiting it well. She looked at Tom again and found him staring at her as if pleading. She knew what he wanted. It was not necessary to disclose everything. Some things could be, and in fact ought to be concealed for the relative peace of mind of all involved.

"No, I have visited once before."

She glanced at Tom again and herself presented with a face full of gratitude.

"Do not you find it an incredible place Miss Austen? There are so many people!"

"Yes, it's very busy."

"And there's so much to do! Have you been to the theatre before?"

Did the girl never stop? Did she instinctively know what to say in order to wound Jane so grievously? Of course she had been to the theatre. It had been one of the "metropolitan amusements" spoken of by Judge Langlois. Yet another agonizing reminder of a blissful time with Tom.

"Yes, indeed I have, but only once."

Mary smiled and suddenly looked almost shy. "Have you been much away from Hampshire?"

"No, not much. My life has been spent largely in the country."

Mary placed her hands on top of Jane's lightly, timidly, and Jane couldn't help but be slightly taken aback.

"I am very glad to hear it Miss Austen. I was so afraid that everybody I would meet here would think me…"

Jane felt herself soften towards the girl. She was so honest and trusting and just so young. And Jane was no stranger to her cirumstances. "Backward?" Jane suggested.

Mary nodded, looking relieved. "Exactly."

"I know the feeling."

A grin spread across Mary's face, and she gave a soft chuckle.

Jane smiled herself, and for the first time that evening it was natural. Her gaze flicked involuntarily over Mary's shoulder, and she found that Tom had not looked away. His face was now all astonishment.

An odd notion fluttered through her mind, and she looked away from both Tom and Mary to conceal a smile. At that moment she wanted more than ever for things between her and Tom to go back to the way they had been. She yearned to be the one sitting beside Tom, and she saw herself telling him how much she liked Mary.

She knew it was ridiculous. She almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it. In the fantasy,_ she _was the one engaged to Tom. Mary certainly was not. But still, she pictured herself telling Tom that, when all was said and done, she actually did approve of Mary.

"So Tom."

Jane was jolted from her dream world and turned to see Henry leaning forward.

"Will you and Miss Paul be in attendance at the dinner party the Russos are holding this week?"

Jane smirked. Her brother was not one to beat around the bush.

"We had intended to be there, yes."

Jane watched as Henry nodded before she felt another light touch on her arm. She turned and found Mary smiling excitedly. The thought crossed her mind that Tom's fiancée seemed to be in a perpetual state of enthusiasm.

"We will see you again on Wednesday then?"

Jane smiled. "It would appear so."

"Wonderful! Don't you think so Tom?"

Jane slowly turned her gaze to the addressed gentleman. She watched him in a state of some apprehension. At last he answered, but not before turning a pair of intense blue eyes from Mary to Jane.

"I do."


	11. The Green Eyed Monster

_Author's Note: I wish I could say I had a good reason for not updating in almost two months, but I don't, so I won't bother trying to lie. I guess it's pretty obvious that I've been both lazy and uninspired when it comes to my fic. However, I know that's a pathetic excuse, so I'll just end this with an apology for my sloth and my occasionally ephemeral attention span as well as a word to the wise that updates may be few and far between from now on. I **do** want to finish this though, so if anybody wants to stick with me through the end, rest assured I will always admire you for your forgiving nature and unnaturally vast reserves of patience._

Chapter 11: The Green-Eyed Monster

Tom felt a gust of cool air sweep across his face and heard the front door being pushed open. His heart started to pound a little faster, and he swung around only to be disappointed by the entrance of a pair of ladies, neither of whom was the one he was hoping to see. He cursed himself for being so eager and reluctantly went back to the conversation at hand.

"Mr. Lefroy, what seems to be the problem? I believe Miss Paul and I lost you for a moment."

Tom hitched up a smile in response to the good-humored jest.

"Is that the Austens?"

Tom turned to see Mary looking towards the door. So he wasn't the only one anxiously awaiting Jane's arrival.

Mr. Russo let out a hearty laugh. "So I am not enough for either of you? Pray, Miss Paul, what attractions for you can the Austens claim that I cannot?"

Tom watched as a very light blush spread across his fiancées features, but she remained cheerful.

"I met them at the theatre the other evening."

"And you were captivated by the good looks of Henry Austen? Or was it the sophistication of his wife? Or perhaps you saw a sister in Miss Jane."

"They seemed to be very kind people."

"Oh indeed! The best you can find. Of course, I can't say much for Miss Austen knowing so little about her, but she seems to be a marvelous young woman. A wonderful lady for you to befriend."

"Tom assured me that she is."

Tom felt his whole being go rigid, having been thrust into the conversation so awkwardly.

"Did he?"

Mr. Russo fixed his curious gaze on Tom. "I had no idea you were acquainted with Miss Jane Austen, Lefroy."

Tom swallowed and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yes, I met her last year."

"Last year? Oh! That's right, your banishment to Hampshire! And to think I pitied you Lefroy. Come to find out you were stuck with a charming young creature like that! I can't say I would have minded being exiled if I could have been in your position."

Tom pulled his hands out of his pockets and clasped them behind his back, clearing his throat at the same time. He wanted to look at Mary, but he didn't dare. He knew she was naïve, but he couldn't imagine that she was _that _naïve.

"She was very pleasant."

Mr. Russo chuckled. "Well, it is of no matter now, is it?" He took a sip from the glass he was holding and smiled. "But that's no reason why you shouldn't say hello."

Tom followed Mr. Russo's gaze over his shoulder and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

"I suppose the two of you would like to greet them."

Tom listened to Mr. Russo in a fog, his entire self focused on Jane. She was standing very close to her brother, as a duckling to its mother, and was looking bothered, but perhaps not quite as distressed as she'd looked on his previous encounters with her in London. Her dress looked oddly familiar, and it was with a start that he realized it was the same one she had worn on the night they had first danced.

He pulled Mary's arm through his own, weakly, but could only take a couple of steps before Mr. Russo stopped in front of them. Tom was about to ask why when he saw that the Austen had already been approached and by none other than Charles Beall.

He watched as Jane's face lit into a smile as she curtsied and then developed into a full blow grin. The smile, which should've brought about one of his own, only served to dampen Tom's spirits under the circumstances.

"It appears that you are not the only young gentleman who has found Miss Austen pleasant."

Tom said nothing as the weight on his chest continued increasing. Beside him, Mr. Russo turned to Mary.

"I apologize that I couldn't secure an interview with Miss Austen now, Miss Paul. However, I w ill do everything in my power to seat you near her at the table. Although I suspect that at least one place by her has already been claimed."

Mr. Russo grinned slightly, a twinkle in his eye that brought to mind Saint Nicholas, before clapping his hands together.

"Now, if you'll excuse me." He gave a sweeping bow. "I'll see both of you in a few moments."

Tom tore his eyes away from Jane and Mr. Beall reluctantly to pay Mr. Russo the respect of a bow in return.

"Mr. Beall is very handsome. Do you think…"

Tom glanced down at Mary, vaguely entertaining a strong, albeit purely fanciful desire to hear her release him from their engagement so that she might pursue Charles Beall instead.

"Do you think he is fond of Miss Austen?"

Tom briefly shut his eyes, hardly able to suppress a groan. "Yes, it would appear that he is." The response was meant to be nonchalant, but Tom would've been a fool if he believed even for a second that bitterness had not managed to seep into his voice.

"It looks to me as if she likes him too, do not you think?"

Tom turned on Mary quickly and a little angrily. She had _no_ idea. "I couldn't say."

The words came out as a sigh, without much conviction. Indeed, when he looked back at Jane her countenance was the brightest he'd seen it yet, and she was wearing that teasing expression he was so familiar with. For some reason, Tom hadn't considered the possibility that Jane would move on and pursue a life without him in it- even if that was exactly what he was doing. The thought was a bit depressing and provoked more than a little jealousy on his part.

Disheartened, he sighed and forced a smile. "Shall we make our way to dinner?"

He was rewarded for his determined gallantry with one of Mary's own very sweet and even more artless smiles. He tightened his grip on her arm and led her into the dining room where most of the party was already starting to settle.

"Emily."

Their hostess smiled at them and curtsied, pushing back a stray lock of ink-black hair as she did so.

"Where should we go?"

"You and Miss Paul are just down there, Mr. Lefroy." Emily smiled and looked at Mary. "I have you seated across from Miss Austen."

Tom knew Mary was content, but as for himself, he was wishing away the accommodating nature of the Russos. He had a feeling as he walked to his seat that Mr. Russo's "suspicions" about who would be seated by Jane were not mere suspicions after all, but based in a very definite reality.

No sooner had he helped Mary into her seat than Jane entered the dining room on the arm of Charles Beall. Tom watched with a kind of helpless envy, dry-mouthed and feeling very weak as Charles pulled out her chair and took his place on one side of her. It seemed to be from a great distance that Tom finally registered Eliza's voice in the corner of his mind.

He tore himself away from the painful spectacle with no little difficulty and smiled vaguely at Eliza who he just realized was sitting across from him. "I'm so sorry Eliza, what was that?"

"Nothing really Tom. I was just wondering how you were."

Tom followed her eyes as she glanced down the table to the spot that had so entranced him. He cast his own gaze downward to escape the look he knew Eliza would turn towards him, warning him and yet pitying him at the same time. Eliza knew about everything, and he felt certain that she wasn't missing anything now.

"So how are you?"

Tom looked up again, conscious of the fact that his expression probably still held a semblance of guilt. "I'm fine. Yourself?"

"I'm very well, thank you."

Tom found that despite his best efforts his attention was straying back to Jane who was now engrossed in conversation with Charles and a man on his left.

"Did you enjoy the show the other evening?"

"Oh, yes…" Tom replied with a very obvious display of distraction. "Yes, of course. It was a very good production."

"I agree. I've seldom seen Shakespeare so well performed."

"Nor I."

The feeble attempt at conversation was abandoned with only a trace of regret on Tom's part. Instead, he focused on the soup sitting in front of him rather than the sweet, feminine voice floating towards him coupled with a rather unwelcome, masculine one. Beside him he could hear Mary holding a conversation with Henry. Across from him, Eliza had been more fortunate with regards to socialization in the lady sitting at her right. And Tom suddenly felt extremely isolated.

"Mr. Lefroy, you're a London gentleman."

The address took Tom completely by surprise, and he took no pains to hide the shock as he met the eyes of Charles Beall.

"Certainly you agree that boxing is a perfectly acceptable sport."

Tom raised his eyebrows coolly and glanced at Jane, who was still smiling but now also blushing and scrutinizing her own soup dish as if it had suddenly become an object of intense fascination.

"I do. I am a boxer myself."

"Indeed? Then perhaps you and I should go a few rounds before I leave London."

"Oh Mr. Beall, don't!"

Tom felt his own face flush with anger at the apparent show of concern on Jane's part for Charles Beall. He clenched a fist sitting on top of his thigh and set his jaw.

Charles laughed. "Miss Austen is convinced that the sport is nothing short of barbaric."

"I am familiar with her opinion."

Jane's smile vanished, and Tom felt a twinge of regret at betraying their former intimacy in a fit of passion.

"Are you?"

Tom nodded in response to Charles's befuddled expression and bowed his head, saying no more, knowing he'd already said too much. He felt a slim hand on his arm and looked over at his fiancée.

Her eyebrows were knit and her green orbs were wide and worried. "Tom, you don't look well."

Tom plastered on a cheery smile. "I'm perfectly well. Do not trouble yourself."

The assurance might have been enough, had not a sigh followed the words, completely negating all their intended meaning.


End file.
